A Grand Anniversary Celebration

At the end of August, we were blessed to be able to help Wes's Uncle Wes and Aunt Ann Schulze celebrate 70 years of wedded bliss. You read that number right! And they are both still as sharp as TACKS! We can't name all the folks in attendance, but are hoping that just this record will be a remembrance for those that were there, and a blessing for some that didn't get to join in the fun.

 Wes's cousin John Schulze recounted his essay from the 50th wedding anniversary, full of memories and humor, a trademark of Wes and Ann's life. Following is the updated version:

September 1, 1943. A date which will live in...oops, wrong speech.... _

My parents, Ann and Wes, met when my Grandad was appointed pastor of Austin's Central Methodist Church, then located across the street from the capitol building and since torn down to make way for the state supreme court building. Central was a Swedish congregation, and in that era of entrenched cultural segregation, the appointment was unacceptable to some of Central’s parishioners, who were aghast to have a pastor who was not only of German extraction, but one who had the temerity to preach to them in English! "Dot Yerman l" they'd say, "doesn't belong here!" At one point, however, a more open—minded member of the church chided the others for their prejudice, telling them, "You vouldn't be satisfied vith Yesus Christ himself!"

Now, among the accepting members of the church were the the Brogrens, who had been active in the Central for four generations. Ann Brogren and Wes Schulze's paths crossed at church, but as Wes was still attending college in San Antonio, they didn't become acquainted until he transferred to the University of Texas. Though Wes was a hot-shot junior and Ann a lowly freshman, somehow they ended up in an economics class together. According to Ann, one of them made an A in the class, and one made a B. But I can't I for the life of me find out who made what.

After being graduated from UT, Wes went on to Perkins School of Theology at SMU, and he hitchhiked from Dallas to Austin as often as possible. No doubt he was an attentive son, but these trips may have had an ulterior motive. The young lovebirds got engaged, and when Wes finished his studies at Perkins, he pressed Ann to set the soonest possible date for marriage. Just as Supreme Allied Commander General Eisenhower would base his choice of the date for the Normandy invasion the next summer on the weather——even on a good day, the English Channel is rough, windy and cold—Serene Bride—to—be Ann held out for sometime after August, the weather of whose central Texas days is NOT among the subjects touched upon in travel PR campaigns. Wes was convinced to accept a date on which the blazing Texas heat of August would be but a hazy memory-—September 1.

In the summer of '43, the whole world was embroiled in the second War to End All Wars. It was the burden of those on the home front to deal with constant shortages of some goods and rationing of others. With the help of his dad, Wes managed to get his hands on a '38 Chevy coupe, the carriage in which he planned to carry off his new bride. Sadly, the car turned out to be what is commonly referred to as a lemon. It acquired the appellation Louise, the name of a neighbor who was constantly ailing.

Now, you couldn't have a wedding without cake, and cake requires sugar. Apparently you couldn't have a war without sugar either, so it was rationed. Perhaps sugar is the secret ingredient in that perennial foxhole favorite, creamed chipped beef on toast, known to its connoisseurs by its military acronym SOS. As Napoleon said, an army marches on its stomach, and many a veteran will tell you that after a serving of SOS, one does indeed feel as though he has spent the day marching on his stomach.

But I digress. By pooling their meagre resources, friends and family scraped together enough sugar ration coupons to make it possible to have a wedding cake and punch. Wes was even presented a precious gas ration stamp by his future father-in—law. This would enable the couple to fuel up Louise for their honeymoon trip. In order to utilize the stamp, however, Wes had to employ the traitorous subterfuge of carefully gluing its edge into a blank space from which another stamp had already been torn. It is fortunate he never had to face a senate confirmation hearing; this heinous affront would no doubt be revealed and his career end in ignominy and disgrace. This criminal act was so skillfully executed that the gas station attendant tore the stamp out without question. The law had specified that loose stamps were unacceptable, which may have been the source of the byword, "Loose stamps sink ships."

The wedding ceremony was, naturally, performed by my Granddad. Wes had requested—-nay, begged——"Please, Dad, don‘t preach a sermon. Just do the ritual and get it over with." But this plea had the same effect as a requesting the tides not to rise and fall. Naturally, Granddad couldn't resist the opportunity the spread the word, so his son's request was ignored. The homily was probably short, but to Ann and Wes, it seemed to last hours as they stood in quiet resignation, waiting anxiously for the concluding sentence. D-day was nine months in the future, but to Ann and Wes, this was the longest day.

Wes’s sister Sylvia sang two solos, and Ann's sister Fran was bridesmaid. Nan Ledbetter, one of Ann's students from Round Rock High School, played the organ, and the reception was held at the Brogrens’ residence.

Everyone enjoyed the almost forbidden pleasures of plenty of cake and punch. I just hope some poor GI at Bastogne didn't have to forego a helping of SOS to make this pleasure possible.

At last came the climax of the evening's festivities, as the triumphant young couple jumped into Louise, a smile on their lips and a song in their hearts as they prepared to journey down life's road together. Wes hit the ignition and—-nothing. Louise did not respond. Helpful well-wishers gathered around, offering varying advice. Ann was mortified with embarrassment, as was Wes, who was extremely frustrated as well. Everyone else, of course, was laughing at the hapless couple's plight. Some friends, eh? Finally, some of the male guests began pushing Louise and she coughed hesitantly to some semblance of life. Thus began the first of my family's many motoring adventures.

Ann and Wes trekked all the way from Pflugerville to the luxurious Driskill Hotel in Austin that night. The next morning, Ann discoverd a fact about Wes that those of us who know him intimately are well aware. Among his many virtues is not that of being an early riser. It would be accurate, in fact, to say he is comatose any time before ten AM. Ann, on the other hand, reaches her peak of alertness at or before sunrise. Experts in the area of marital relations maintain that such a couple is ill-suited for marriage, but living proof here contradicts that assertion. At least they've made it to the year mark.

Now, in all the excitement of her wedding day, Ann had scarcely eaten a bite. Unsurprisingly, she awoke ravenously hungry. She patted Wes and said gently, "Honey, wake up. I'm hungry." No response. Repeated entreaties elicited the same reaction——or lack thereof, to Ann‘s great consternation. However, being a strong and emancipated woman, she determined to get breakfast on her own. Upon arriving in the dining room, however, she suddenly thought, "What if someone I know sees me here, in my home town, eating breakfast alone the first morning of my honeymoon?" She this repaired stealthily to an obscure corner of the dining room and hastily consumed her solitary repast.

Once nourished and no doubt revitalized by coffee, Ann then started back to her nuptial chamber. Now, it may surprise you to know this, but the sophisticated world traveler you see here today was once a simple Phi Beta Kappa farm girl, unschooled in the ways of the world, and to her horror and consternation, she had neglected to make note of her room number. Seriously, folks, you can’t make this kind of thing up! She did at least remember the floor, which narrowed the search considerably. She proceeded down the hall, trying her key in likely looking doors until the right one opened, revealing the still slumbering form of her new husband, who had the whole time been blissfully ignorant of her absence.

But Wes did awake, and Louise did start, so the newlyweds set out for New Braunfels and San Antonio, destinations that would consume their entire (fraudulently obtained) gas ration. On the open road, Louise insisted on a leisurely pace. When accelerated beyond 30 mph, she would shudder and shake and make hideous noises, as if ready to fly to pieces-—or as my son Evan would say in his preschool years, "blow to submarines." Finally reaching old Camp Warnecke on the Guadalupe River, the young pioneers rented a rustic log cabin, which turned out to be infested with cockroaches, insects neither had ever encountered before (yes, it was a simpler age!). This encounter proved to presage their future years, most of which have been spent in south Texas engaged in a never-ending battle with these noisome invertebrates.

Just before the wedding, the district superintendent cornered Wes and pressured him to accept the position as Wesley Foundation Director at Texas A&I University in Kingsville. This would mean abandoning plans for graduate study in comparative religion at the University of Chicago, but there was a serious shortage of pastors and Wes heeded duty's call. They set out for Kingsville within the next week in a revived Louise, who had undergone extensive mechanical repairs. She atoned for previous failings, faithfully carrying Ann and Wes as far as Canada. I know this to be a fact; I've seen a photo of Louise parked by her namesake lake in British Columbia. Could it be that her journey was so amazing that the Canadians named the lake after the car?

In Kingsville, the housing shortage was so severe they spent their first year there living in a bedroom of the parsonage. Here Ann and Wes made lifelong friends of the parsonage's family, the Redmonds. Wes carried on a program of Christian education and recreation for the college students and local military personnel. Ann taught in the local school district, where she made double the salary she had in Round Rock, going from $900 to $1800. For the younger members of the audience, that was her annual salary, not her weekly one! Because she was the youngest and most agile member of the all—female faculty, she was assigned to "teach" boys’ P.E. She was referred to by her charges as "coach," and she supervised them in football, basketball, track, and baseball as the seasons changed. One of her football players went on to be nominated All-American; but modesty prevents her from taking any credit for his success. But she will admit he was the first—and last--kid she ever paddled.

Thus Ann and Wes spent the first of these 70 years together.

 Wes's cousin Jan completed the honoring of her parents.

 And the grandsons got into the act, offering live musical entertainment.

The beautiful bride.

In their courting days, a handsome couple!

 At this table were Patricia and Harold Burkhart, as well as Betty and Jerry Smith.

 Joyce Allen, Irene Chase, Caroline Decker and Carolyn Heirholzer.

 Mal and Carolyn Heirholzer, Steve and Linda Yates.

 Little Sis Sylvia is the top of the pyramid, then Wes and me, then the honorees, Ann and Wes Schulze.

 The Lee and Sylvia clan gathered around our wonderful Aunt and Uncle; David, Becky, Becky's husband Tommy, Sylvia (Mawmaw) Ann and Wes, Bridgette Griffin, and Wes and me.

Wes and Ann surrounded by their kids and grands. It was a grand day!